was done and would be no more threat. Satan's minions did not survive beyond their missions. So Cedric had saved her by interposing himself, by abating the demon's imperative- with his life. Cedric had not told her, so that neither Satan nor the demon would know of the ruse. And so she would not scream and carry on and cry, forcing him to desist from his sacrifice. Now it was done, and it seemed that Satan was unable to attack her again. That one demon must have been all that the Prince of Evil could spare. Or perhaps he simply hadn't checked and didn't realize that she hadn't died.
It did seem to fit together. It did account for Cedric's action-and that was a perverse but considerable comfort to her. Cedric had acted to abate once and for all the threat to her so that she could fulfill her destiny-which was, apparently, to become an Aspect of Fate.
But how was she to do that? Again, she knew what the answer had to be. She would do it; Fate would do it- when the time was right. When, perhaps, she needed the skill of a mistress of weaving. Fate-the ultimate worker of thread! The ultimate weaver of tapestries.
All Niobe had to do was wait. She was probably safe as long as she did nothing to attract Satan's attention to her. Of course the Incarnations weren't talking; the fewer who knew a secret, the better it was kept.
But now she had some hope. She could not bring Cedric back, but she could tackle Satan. When she became Fate.
But what about Junior? Surely she couldn't take him to Purgatory! She would have to give him up.
If Cedric had lived, she realized, none of this would have been possible. Had he known that, too?
Perhaps he had tried to tell her at the wake: that he wanted her to do this, to assume the office, that this was part of his motive. 0 Cedric! She could not turn it down, now.
She continued about her routine, her grief slowly easing. She took Junior daily to play with the hamadryad, for he really looked forward to it and seemed to be learning something, though she was uncertain what. She worked hard to complete her current tapestry, lest it be forever unfinished if she were called suddenly away. She took Junior to visit Cousin Pace, because now she knew that one day he would have to go there to stay. She did not want to part with him, but knew this would be necessary-and that it had better be done sooner rather than later, to make his emotional transition easier. She quietly put her finances in order, arranging for a trust fund that would pay a stipend to his guardian, so that he would be no financial burden on others.
Weeks went by. Almost, she began to doubt. Then a fat letter arrived. It was addressed to her-but inside was a ticket to a city on another continent, with another woman's name on it. One Daphne Morgan.
Niobe looked again at the envelope. It was definitely addressed to her. She looked for the return address and found none. The postmark was indecipherable. Evidently the wrong ticket had been inserted, but there was no way she could send this letter back.
Wrong ticket? Why should she receive a ticket at all?
Who was Daphne Morgan? Had she received something intended for Niobe? From whom? Why? This seemed like total confusion.
Yet someone had prepared the envelope, and mailed it. It could not be a complete mistake.
She thought about it. She nodded. "Of course!"
She bid farewell to the hamadryad, explaining that she would be going away for a while and would not be able to bring Junior to the tree. The dryad didn't answer, but looked so sad that Niobe felt terrible. But this was a thing she had to do. "Maybe the family who will be keeping him-maybe they will bring him here," she said. "I'll ask them to."
The dryad smiled, and Niobe felt better. She turned Junior over to Cedric's cousin's family. She had taken a null-grief spell, but still it hurt. "Once before," she told them, "I boarded my baby with you, uncertain whether I
It did seem to fit together. It did account for Cedric's action-and that was a perverse but considerable comfort to her. Cedric had acted to abate once and for all the threat to her so that she could fulfill her destiny-which was, apparently, to become an Aspect of Fate.
But how was she to do that? Again, she knew what the answer had to be. She would do it; Fate would do it- when the time was right. When, perhaps, she needed the skill of a mistress of weaving. Fate-the ultimate worker of thread! The ultimate weaver of tapestries.
All Niobe had to do was wait. She was probably safe as long as she did nothing to attract Satan's attention to her. Of course the Incarnations weren't talking; the fewer who knew a secret, the better it was kept.
But now she had some hope. She could not bring Cedric back, but she could tackle Satan. When she became Fate.
But what about Junior? Surely she couldn't take him to Purgatory! She would have to give him up.
If Cedric had lived, she realized, none of this would have been possible. Had he known that, too?
Perhaps he had tried to tell her at the wake: that he wanted her to do this, to assume the office, that this was part of his motive. 0 Cedric! She could not turn it down, now.
She continued about her routine, her grief slowly easing. She took Junior daily to play with the hamadryad, for he really looked forward to it and seemed to be learning something, though she was uncertain what. She worked hard to complete her current tapestry, lest it be forever unfinished if she were called suddenly away. She took Junior to visit Cousin Pace, because now she knew that one day he would have to go there to stay. She did not want to part with him, but knew this would be necessary-and that it had better be done sooner rather than later, to make his emotional transition easier. She quietly put her finances in order, arranging for a trust fund that would pay a stipend to his guardian, so that he would be no financial burden on others.
Weeks went by. Almost, she began to doubt. Then a fat letter arrived. It was addressed to her-but inside was a ticket to a city on another continent, with another woman's name on it. One Daphne Morgan.
Niobe looked again at the envelope. It was definitely addressed to her. She looked for the return address and found none. The postmark was indecipherable. Evidently the wrong ticket had been inserted, but there was no way she could send this letter back.
Wrong ticket? Why should she receive a ticket at all?
Who was Daphne Morgan? Had she received something intended for Niobe? From whom? Why? This seemed like total confusion.
Yet someone had prepared the envelope, and mailed it. It could not be a complete mistake.
She thought about it. She nodded. "Of course!"
She bid farewell to the hamadryad, explaining that she would be going away for a while and would not be able to bring Junior to the tree. The dryad didn't answer, but looked so sad that Niobe felt terrible. But this was a thing she had to do. "Maybe the family who will be keeping him-maybe they will bring him here," she said. "I'll ask them to."
The dryad smiled, and Niobe felt better. She turned Junior over to Cedric's cousin's family. She had taken a null-grief spell, but still it hurt. "Once before," she told them, "I boarded my baby with you, uncertain whether I
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